Dance With The Devil
by Rhosyn Fox
Summary: They are identical twins and polar opposites. Left to die by his brother, Vergil is coming to claim what is his; the sword Yamato, the Underworld, and his brother. What Vergil did not anticipate was opposites attracting.
1. Power

**Dance With The Devil**

**Disclaimer:** Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended and no funds have been acquired for this work. This is an adult themed story and may contain some of the following: violence, swearing, and strong sexual, and/or adult situations.

**Summary:** They are identical twins and polar opposites. Left to die by his brother, Vergil is coming to claim what is his; the sword Yamato, the Underworld, and his brother. What Vergil did not anticipate was opposites attracting.

**Chapter One: Power**

They had never really gotten along. It was a situation quite typical of many siblings but somewhat atypical of twins. But his younger brother was so brash and loud. He acted without thinking, without seeing all possible outcomes. Not that action was bad but his younger brother was hasty in his actions. Imprudent. That trait did not lesson as they grew older, leading to strife between the brothers.

Their mother, their beautiful mother, would only laugh and shake her elegant head and tell them that they'd understand each other someday. She was everything he held dear, despite the times when he had slight misgivings that she loved his younger brother more. Poised, she carried about her a regal air and on the two of them she lavished unconditional love.

He could still hear her screams and desperate pleadings for him and his brother to run. Like iron filings to a magnet he had run towards her voice and watched as demons slaughtered his most precious person while his brother hid out of sight. He could not imagine life without mother. She was his rock. They had already lost their father; they could not lose their mother too! He turned to his whimpering twin and the desperate fear in his brother's blue eyes stopped him. He would have to defend them on his own.

Desperate, he raced to his mother whose crimson blood poured from her wounds amid the cackles of inhuman beings. He launched his body at the nearest demon tormenting his mother. Time slowed and distorted as he reached out his small hands towards her. He had not seen the demon creeping up from behind and the world exploded in agonizing pain. He fought, but what could a child do against such foes?

They played with him, taunting him, passing him from demon to demon as he tried to fight to free his mother. Fists dealt unbearable damage, kicks broke ribs, and claws shredded his flesh, scythes slashed at him. He was beaten to the floor, the sound of shattering glass and his mother's screams ringing in his ears.

The demons' laughter mocked him, his breath bubbled out of his lungs, and blood pooled around his broken body. Where was his brother? Why didn't he help? His vision faded in and out as each second echoed loudly in his ears. He watched in slow motion as a fiend picked up the remains of a leg to the dining room table and impaled him with glee. The seconds ticked loudly and time ebbed as his breath stopped altogether. Sure of his death the demons left him battered and broken on the floor of his own living room.

However, he was not an ordinary child. Human and demonic blood flowed through his veins. His blood had congealed around him and his body was cold to the touch, but a spark of life still lived within him and refused to let him die. Power pulsed in his veins, gathering energy until he was enclosed by electric blue light. Pain seared through him but the blue light held steady and grew in luminescence. He slowly rose from his prone position on the floor and grasped the makeshift stake imbedded in his body. He pulled it out with ease, the flesh knitting back together. He dropped the wooden stake, letting it fall to the ground as he stared at his transformed hands and arms in wonder.

His body had changed. Claws tipped his fingers and his skin pulsed from a dazzling blue light that filled his entire being to the brink. His power. His skin seemed tougher, almost like hide with swirled patterns circling his flesh. His clawed hands hesitantly touched his face and he marveled at the differences in his features as he felt along the protruding horns.

Still unsteady, he took another step and almost gasped at his feet. They were longer, wider, and tipped in deadly claws, just as his hands. He made his way over the china cabinet, staring at his reflection in the broken glass. His features had taken on a decidedly non-human appearance. Just like his feet and hands. Animalistic. Demonic. The blue light stopped pulsing, his strength pushed to its limits, and he collapsed.

When he awoke again, his features had reverted to his human state and his entire body, while healed, was sore. He stumbled to his knees, searching frantically for his mother. All he found was the blood stained outline of her body. Sobbing, he called for his brother. Where was his brother? Slipping on the floor he wandered the house, plaintively calling out for his mother and brother. Only the silence greeted him.

Hot anger burned in his veins and abject misery clawed its way through his heart. His two most precious people were gone. Gone because he was weak. His stared at the fallen family portrait and could not stop the tears that wracked his tiny little frame. He sobbed until he had no more tears left. Exhausted he rested his head on the floor whispering for someone to help him as darkness claimed his consciousness.

It was early in the morning when he finally roused. He forced himself to his feet, wiping the remains of last night's bile from his mouth, and stood over the crimson stain that was all that was left of his mother. His gazed at it silently, fists clenched.

His voice was hoarse and scratchy when he spoke. "Power, I need more power!"

A blue light pulsed near him and he whirled around, mouth agape as a katana hovered near him. He knew this blade. It had decorated the study. It once belonged to their father and his mother had said one day it would belong to him. He reached out a hand and the blade flew to it. Clasping his fingers around the katana he felt power course through him. A cold smile crossed his lips.

He was Vergil, a son of Sparda, and Yamato was his.

* * *

><p>Mallet Island had emerged mysteriously from the depths of the ocean and was determined to keep its secrets. Its aura was foreboding. Statues of twisted caricatures and fallen angels decorated the solid stone castle and cathedral. A hazy mist crept along hallways and corridors. Creeping vines and blighted vegetation grew in the courtyard. A presence hung oppressively over the island, watching and waiting.<p>

Nelo Angelo pressed harder, bearing down on his opponent, their blades locked in a duel to the death. Metal reverberated and sang an eerie melody to accompany their duel. The two figures glided across the intricately carved courtyard of the castle and around the dizzying heights of the cathedral. It was an ethereal stage they fought on, not quite of this world.

The sun blazed high overhead as Nelo dispassionately watched a drop of sweat roll down his opponent's face. He supposed it might be considered a hot day for a human. Nelo watched the drop fall to the ground and brought his gaze back up to the human's brilliant blue eyes. The man was a worthy foe, much to his surprise. Who would have thought a human could have accomplished so much and come so far?

The Dark Knight twisted the pommel of his sword, breaking the lock, and knocking the human back. He disappeared in a sizzling display of power, reappearing on higher ground. Excitement kindled in him, breaking through his cold reserve, and licking a flame along his veins. Warmth he hadn't felt in all his years of living in the depths of the Underworld stirred to life. Exhilaration swam in his veins. Laughing, he gestured the human towards him. How long could this human stand against him, Nelo Angelo, dark prince of the Underworld?

The man's sword glinted in the sunlight as he jumped the considerable height needed to reach Nelo on the walkway leading back to castle. Nelo slashed at the human's head as soon as he was within reach, his sword sliding in to draw blood from an unguarded stance. The human bared his teeth, his red leather jacket billowing out around him and swung his body around, making sure only his shoulder caught the edge of Nelo's monstrous sword.

Sparks jumped where their blades made contact, power thrumming in both of them. Parry, thrust, defend, and slash. They danced along the stone path neither giving ground.

Nelo handled his sword with an elegant grace, easily countering the human's moves while the man's breathing grew ragged. Still, the human fought on in an impressive display of skill but Nelo could feel the human's strength wane. With a feeling akin to regret he decided to end to battle. There was no more strength left to pit his skills against. His foe was only human even if he did somehow manage to wield Alastor.

Nelo swung his sword, preparing to deal a death blow, when the human's blue eyes glowed with hellfire. The red leather shifted into something darker and twisted. Nelo stared in amazement at the devil that now stood before him. His hesitation cost him as pain ripped through his side from a barrage of bullets enhanced by devil power. Nelo gathered his own energy and teleported out of range.

The man was a half demon. Nelo rubbed his blood between his fingers. He had been injured. Satisfaction filled him. It was turning out to be an interesting day indeed. Blue fire crackled in his bones as he launched an all out assault against the half demon.

The thrill of battle hazed both minds as they waltzed around the courtyard, their demonic forms apropos to the unearthly surrounding of Mallet Island. Nelo thrust his sword, blue fire leaping off the blade. The smaller devil grunted in pain, his demonic aura bleeding away as he reverted to his human state.

Nelo disarmed the vulnerable human. His sword Alastor clattered to the ground. Nelo sheathed his own blade, intent on finishing the battle hand-to-hand. A swift roundhouse kick struck the man in the head, followed by a vicious jab to the ribs. The half demon fell to his knees, dazed and gasping for air. Nelo Angelo lifted him up by the neck and slammed him into the stone wall behind them.

The human clutched desperately at the choke hold, his blue eyes defiant still. Human or half demon this person had provided a refreshing challenge to his strength. A pity it would end so soon. The human gasped as the life was squeezed out of him, struggling wildly in Nelo's grip. Something stuck Nelo's chest and he glanced down.

A blood red amulet hung from a golden chain around the half demon's neck, previously hidden by his leather vest. Power shone from the red orb and a strong resonance assailed Nelo Angelo. Pain lanced his skull. In agony, he threw the half demon into the middle of the courtyard. Gripping his skull and uttering guttural moans he shot into the sky, fleeing from the power of the amulet.


	2. Fleeting Glimpses

**Dance With The Devil**

**Disclaimer:** Devil May Cry belongs to Capcom. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended and no funds have been acquired for this work. This is an adult themed story and may contain some of the following: violence, swearing, and strong sexual, and/or adult situations.

**Summary:** They are identical twins and polar opposites. Left to die by his brother, Vergil is coming to claim what is his; the sword Yamato, the Underworld, and his brother. What Vergil did not anticipate was opposites attracting.

**Chapter Two: Fleeting Glimpses**

Nelo Angelo's mouth almost twitched in a smile. Almost. The half-devil was crass and for some unfathomable reason it made him want to laugh. He shrugged the sensation away, his attention focused on the red clad half human currently insulting Phantom.

For all his immaturity and brash demeanor the half demon was an excellent fighter. Quite fascinating, truth be told, to watch insults spew from that mouth while the man wielded Alastor with impeccable grace. The only jarring note was his proclivity for those two guns of his. Nelo's mouth twisted in disgust at that. A true warrior did not resort to guns to win his battles and yet the half-demon did handle those weapons with deadly accuracy and a certain flair.

The half demon was an interesting conundrum and Nelo had to admit that he was looking forward to their next encounter. He truly had no one to spar with that was on his level and he tired of dispatching lessor demons. Not even Mundus' generals held any interest for him. Pathetic demons, cowering behind Mundus, whimpering and scraping at his every word. Did they have no pride or honor? Phantom deserved his fate and Nelo Angelo had no doubt that Phantom was going to die at the hands of the half breed.

The air stirred beside him and he tilted his head to regard the demoness next to him. Irritation at being interrupted surged through him and his armor pulsed his displeasure. Long blond hair floated on the breeze she had created and Nelo clenched his fists in an attempt to stop himself from caressing those blond strands. Why did this demoness have such a profound affect on him? Looking at her made him want to howl in rage. He wanted to rip her offending body in half and yet whenever he caught her eyes it was as if he was entranced and all he wanted was to enfold her into his arms.

The demoness turned to him and he fell into those blue eyes. His heart sped up and his breathing grew erratic. One of his hands unclenched and slowly reached out to capture a strand of her hair. He felt like a child in her gaze, so unsure of himself. Why did she affect him? A half glimpsed memory danced just out of his reach and he withdrew his hand, turning resolutely away from her. Humiliation burned his throat.

He remembered when Mundus had first introduced him to the demoness. She had seemed so familiar then too and he had been just as torn then as he was now. Then Mundus had ordered Nelo to kill her. Nelo had tried, he truly had. But even though his Zweihander was poised to deal a death blow and lope off her head, those piercing blue eyes had caught his. His sword trembled in his hands, poised over his head, and he could not do it. Mundus' mocking laughter echoed in his ears and she just continued to stare at him! He had fallen to his knees in shame.

"Such power," the demoness remarked and her incredible blue eyes burned through him. Was that guilt he saw in those eyes? Disturbed, Nelo walked away and pushed the demoness and her eyes out of his mind. He had an upcoming battle to ponder over.

* * *

><p>Defeat clung to him, the taste of copper gone rancid in his mouth. It hung about him, like a torn cloak, suffocating him. Where was his strength, his power? Time after time, over and over, defeat crept upon him like a thief in the night. He raised shaking hands, his skin almost translucent and pallid. A small ball of faint blue light formed between his hands, suspended in mid air. It pulsed weakly, the brilliance of his essence dimmed but still there, still holding on. Vergil studied the small fragment of his soul, feeling bereft without it, even weaker than before. Still, Yamato must be found and made whole.<p>

With a gesture, intent on its quest, the fragment of his soul sped through the wastes of hell. Vergil trembled with the effort the spell had taken, his already diminished strength waning. Gasping, he laid his head against the black basalt rock supporting him. Yamato, he had to recover the Yamato. He was lost without the dark katana; the blade having been his companion since his youth. Yamato had been his comfort and only friend from the day of his mother's death.

Now that his attention was no longer focused, pain that had previously been pushed to the back of his mind came roaring forth demanding his attention. Vergil grimaced and moved gingerly, trying not to disturb his bleeding side. Hell was not a forgiving home and every day was a struggle and a test of survival. Only the strong prospered here. Those who were not strong either fell to their deaths or were enslaved into the service of stronger demons. His will, intelligence, and cunning were pushed to their limits every day without letup. His strength and power were overtaxed, leaving him gasping and huddling in the crevice of the mountain sanctuary he had discovered.

The constant battles had honed his senses, brought forth new abilities, and refined old ones. He had learned to rely on himself completely, not even the aid of his beloved blade to help him. With all he had survived, all that he had learned about himself and his demon heritage in the process, he could not explain the daily weakness that consumed him; the sudden draining of his power. He was not operating at his full devil capacity and he hadn't been since his second defeat at his brother's hands.

Small cries echoed from below him. It was a group of smaller devils ganging up on one of their wounded brethren. Their snarls and talons added to the lake of putrid blood pooled in the valley below. Vergil wedged further into his crevice. Sulfur burned his lungs with every breath he took. Gritting his teeth he pulled the scythe imbedded in his side out. Groaning, he Devil Triggered, the flow of his precious lifeblood staunched by his recuperative powers. Blue vitality flickered along his veins and his powers, drained thought they were, closed the gash the scythe caused. Closing his eyes Vergil concentrated, whispering a mantra as he consumed the power of the scythe for his own. Vitality flooded him, the gray tinge of his skin returning to deep sapphire blue as energy coursed through him. His health was restored immediately and senses previously dulled flared to life. Vergil took a deep breath, the sulfur no longer a bother. His claws, brittle and broken, grew into sharp deadly talons.

His relief was short lived. A startled cry ripped from his throat as his power was stolen from his body, draining him almost to the point of death. An anguished sound tore his throat, he lost his Devil Trigger, leaving a broken human male cowering in a small mountain crevice surrounded by demons who would love nothing more than to turn him into food or sport.

It hurt to breath, the smell of sulfur making him queasy. Nearly insensate Vergil concentrated what remained of his life force and focused on the detached piece of his soul, the small blue sphere of light sustaining him. His hands went to grasp his missing amulet, the amulet that should be around his neck, and he made a small noise of despair, feeling empty without it. He gritted his teeth, his pride shattering as a small tear trickled down his cheek. Desperate he latched onto the soul fragment and made it his whole world. He had to find Yamato. The sword was the key to overcoming this situation.

The fragment flew onward, slipping through a minuscule portal into the human world; he had searched the entirety of hell and not found his beloved sword. It was no longer in the underworld. Vergil's eyes widened as soon as his soul slipped into the human world. The Yamato shone in his mind's eye as a bright beacon, the sword crying out to him as soon as it had sensed his presence. A small hysterical laugh left his chapped lips and he directed his essence towards the shrill cry of his sword.

His soul sped to its destination. Just as it was about make contact with the broken blade, his soul fragment was ripped off its course and sucked into human flesh. Vergil cried out, the small demons below glancing up at the mountain in fear at the howl that had ripped forth from its gloomy heights.

Vergil's human hands clawed the ground below him. What was this? Gasping, he tried to reconnect with his soul fragment and was confused as he studied the human now hosting part of his soul. It was...himself? It resembled him and the human's own soul greatly resonated with him. Dante? No, this was not his brother, his brother was not this young, and while the creature looked remarkably like Dante and him there were differences. Vergil probed deeper, spending what little strength he had left, and a low growl ripped from his throat.

So this is what that damnable order had done with the pieces of his shattered body and soul he had not been able to recover when he had re-asserted his dominance over the Nelo Angelo persona. A cloned replica. How despicable. So this is the creature that was being used to drain his power and strength. From the way it acted it seemed to be unaware of the truth of its existence. It was wounded. A smile twisted his face as Vergil grasped the opportunities this presented. A laugh bubbled up from his throat and he used his soul fragment to take over the doppelganger. The arm his soul inhabited Triggered and changed as his essence infiltrated the mock copy.

He would re-take the Yamato and deal with this order of knights through his replica until he had healed completely and re-gained his full powers. It shouldn't take too long, now that he knew what was draining him. When he was recovered, he was coming for his sword and once Yamato was secure inhis grasp he would kill this upstart with it.

Then he was going after Dante. Dante and his half of the Perfect Amulet. Once both were in his possession he was going after Mundus.

The replica shuddered as Vergil directed its body and whispered into its mind."Power, give me more power!" 


End file.
